


Indigo Eyes

by breath



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Internal Conflict, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, dancer chaeyoung, dancer lalisa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breath/pseuds/breath
Summary: "To be one of the greatest involves the greatest sacrifice."The phrase repeats itself on and on in Chaeyoung's head as she watches herself in the mirror.The music industry is tough.  Chaeyoung didn't know that when she first entered to become a dancer.  She didn't leave though, she still hasn't.





	Indigo Eyes

**Two years ago.**

 

_“Chaeyoung, what are you going to do?”_

  _“What do you mean?  With my life?”_

  _Her sister nods._

  _“You already know the answer to that.  Once school’s over I’m going to become a dancer.  One of the greatest. The best the world has ever seen-actually scratch that, the best Korea has ever seen.”  She spreads her arms wide as she stares up at the grey autumn sky._

_“But what if it doesn’t work?  Like dad says.”_

_Chaeyoung’s shoulders slump._

_“It_ will _work.  I’m going to prove him wrong.  I’m going to prove you all wrong.”  she jabs at her sister’s ribs, gaining a squeal in her ear and jab in her rib in return.  The two wrestle on the carpet in front of the glass door leading to the balcony._

 

**Present.**

 

“Chaeyoung, wake up!”

The thunderous voice of her instructor jolts Chaeyoung awake.  She pushes herself off the wall and stands up, everyone’s looking at her.  Sweat begins to form on the back of her neck.

Her instructor walks up to her, she is few inches shorter than Chaeyoung but still Chaeyoung’s body retracts embarrassment.   

“Look at me.”

She obeys, her instructor’s deep brown eyes boring holes into the skin of her pasty cheeks.

“Do you like to dance?” Her voice is similar to when communicating with dogs along with a fake smile plastered onto her face.

“Yes, Miss Yang.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.  Truly-”

A firm slap across her face echoes throughout the room.

“Then why don’t you act like it?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t respond, she can feel tears burn in the corners of her eyes and she bows apologetically murmuring ‘I’m sorry’s.  Miss Yang huffs and refocuses on the class. Chaeyoung looks at herself in the mirror across the room. She makes eye contact with someone.  

 

Lalisa.  

 

One of the only few dancers Miss Yang along with the other choreographers that actually respect and find likeable.  Her gaze is blank, plump lips curled in a slight mocking manner. Chaeyoung flares her nostrils and brings her attention back to Miss Yang.  For the next half hour, she follows every instruction, she moves smoothly when asked, picks up the pace when asked. She does everything perfectly.

 Practice ends.  Miss Yang calls Chaeyoung to stay a bit later than the others.

“Chaeyoung.  I’m going to ask you this again.  Do you like to dance?”

She grips at the strap of her bag.

“Yes.”

“Truly?”

Chaeyoung winces, scared to get slapped again.

“I do.”

Miss Yang nods.

“Can you tell me why you chose to become a dancer instead of becoming whatever occupation it was your father wanted?”

A surgeon.

Her father wanted her to become a surgeon.  It didn’t even matter if she became a surgeon.  If it involved working at a hospital or clinic or a doctor’s office or anything similar to that, her father wanted her to become that.  But Chaeyoung hated anything involving blood and tears and the act of cutting flesh open.

When her mother signed her up for ballet classes at the early age of four, she fell in love.

“It’s wonderful.  I don’t know how to describe it but everytime I dance on stage, I feel this sort of new emotion-like fireworks in every section of my body.”  She’s looking out the window and out into the city, slowly fading into the the darkness of winter’s early nights. Her head turns back to the direction of Miss Yang, an amused smile displayed on her face.

“You have quite a way a with words, Chae.  I just wish those words could be expressed through your movements.”  Miss Yang brings herself forward, gingerly placing her calloused hands over top of Chaeyoung’s slim shoulders.  “You are talented. And I can see you trying so hard to get out of your shell, but I think getting out of your shell is what’s holding you back right now.  Do you understand? I’m going to ask you to follow these instructions, since you’re so good at that. Focus on the choreography right now and getting out of your shell later.  You _are_ talented.  But not talented enough to break through.  Not yet. Not like Lisa.”

Chaeyoung’s grip on her strap tightens up again.

No matter what the conversation is, Lalisa is always mentioned.  Chaeyoung hates it, she shouldn’t though. Lalisa worked hard-harder than almost everyone to become one of the most well known names in the company.  Chaeyoung just wishes her efforts would be recognized like Lalisa’s.

Miss Yang’s hands leave Chaeyoung and the warm from her hands is now replaced with the chill coming from the open window on the far right.

An awkward moment is passed between the two before Chaeyoung nods and walks out of the room.

She pulls her sweater over her head right as she exits the building and a wave of the winter’s chill hits her face.  She pauses to shiver and looks up at the sky. Deep indigo. Not a single star is to be seen, only the moon peeking through the grey clouds.  The streets are filled with people, groups of teenagers and young adults wrapped in dull puffy coats bustle past each other. Their voices are a low hum from high above when practicing in the buildings late at night but when on ground level, each voice is so distinct.  That’s Chaeyoung’s favourite thing about the building; the setting. Although it can be overbearing sometimes, Chaeyoung loves it.

She makes her way through the crowd.  The cackles of teenage boys. The high pitched giggles of high school girls.  The blushes of shyness mixed with cold spread across new couples’ faces. Chaeyoung takes all of it in.  She’s too busy looking around to notices she’s about to bump into someone only until they’ve made contact.

“Oh shit-I’m sorry-Jennie!”  Chaeyoung’s sudden outburst causes a few people to turn her way but only for a second.  It’s Jennie, one of the singers from the company that Chaeyoung often danced for in the beginning of her dancing career.  She’s not too big of a deal in the industry but many singers and dancers respect her. She looks at Chaeyoung in confusion before the realisation passes over her face and she flashes her signature gummy smile.

“Hey Chae.  How’ve you been?”

“Good-”

“I saw your practice today.” Jennie cuts her off, not actually caring for what Chaeyoung says,  “You’ve been kinda slacking and sleeping a lot. You should probably work on that, I wouldn’t want to see another pretty face leave the company.”  She pats Chaeyoung’s cheek which results in her cheeks and neck to burn up.

“Yeah.” She croaks out.  Jennie’s smiles widens, a bit too much.  And just like that she disappears into the crowd.

_‘Did you hear that?  You might get the boot.  Maybe your dad was right.  Get your fucking act together.’_

She breathes in deeply and begins to walk.

“No.  It’s alright.  You’re alright.”  She whispers to herself.

_‘No.  It’s not alright.  You’re not alright.  You’re wrong. Yang hates you.  Lalisa hates you. Even Jennie probably hates you.  Why didn’t you listen to your dad? He’s always right, he was right about your mom and he’s right about you.  Failure.’_

“You’re okay.  You’re okay.”

_‘Failure.  Failure.’_

“Shut up.  You’re okay.  I’m okay.”

_‘Dad always said you took after mom.  We already know where you’ll end up.’_

Chaeyoung’s eyes seal shut as she continues to walk forward.

“I’m okayI’m okayI’m okayI’m okay-”

 _‘We all know you’re going to end up in the tub, Chae.’_ her father’s echoes through her head before she slams her hands to her ears.

“Shut up!” She lurches forward and sinks to her knees.

“Shut up.”  She whispers.  She opens her eyes.  She’s in the park.

Alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a video essay on Black Swan and Whiplash on how far an artist will go and got inspired to write this. It's messy and may never be continued but it's summer break for me and I have all the time in the world right now. So you never know and I hope you liked it. Thank you.


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